Worn Out
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: My response to Batwings' OTP at the end of a long day challenge. Richard has a terrible day and Isobel tries to make him relax.


**This is my answer to the challenge Batwings has created centring around an OTP (Richobel) and Richard coming home at the end of tiring day. Also featuring the required underwear. It's a oneshot, and, though it doesn't need much of timeframe, it's Series 4 AU. And it's almost pure smut too. **

As Richard let himself quietly in through the front door of Crawley House, he was very surprised indeed that his knees did not give way. He hung his coat and hat up on the stand in the corridor and made his way wearily into the back sitting room, where he knew Isobel would probably be at this time of day.

She looked up from her desk, where she was sitting writing a letter, as he came in and instantly her expression changed from one of near anticipation to one of concern.

"Difficult day?" she asked him.

"You have no idea," he replied flatly.

"I can hardly believe that," she told him, standing up and vacating her chair, indicating that he should take it instead, "I've seen my fair share of them, you know."

He sank gratefully into the chair with something of a thump.

"A birth in the middle of the morning rounds," he informed her, "Twins, no less. Then a young lad had come of his bicycle badly when I was on my way back to the hospital. Then the ward Sister was taken ill herself so we were short-staffed-..."

"Really?" she asked, resting her hands on his tired shoulders, "You know if that happens you should send straight for me."

"I didn't want to bother you," he told her, "You haven't worked full days at the hospital since Matthew died."

"I know that, but I would do if you needed me to," she told him, rubbing his shoulders with her hands now, "Without hesitation."

He smiled tiredly.

"Thank you," was all he could think of to say.

"You're very welcome," she replied, her hands pressing a little more firmly along his shoulders, down to the top of his back, his wrought shoulder blades, "Have you been home?"

He sighed a little as her hands continued to work over him through his waistcoat.

"I came straight here," he replied.

She smiled a little to herself, changing the angle of her grip a little, working the other way against his muscles, tutting gently.

"Poor darling," she soothed quietly, smiling but meaning it seriously.

"Here's just as good as home," he replied, after a moment, equally quietly, "You're here."

She smiled again, leaning forwards quickly and kissing his temple. He stifled a groan as he felt her breasts gently brush the back of her head as she did so. She stayed close when he thought would have straightened up, her lips cradling the corner of his brow, her hands slipping down as she did so to massage his lower back.

She continued working her hands over his back, pressing with firm but gentle fingers through his waistcoat, trying to work the tension out of his muscles, that was obviously wound up and doing him no good whatever. She did not seem to realise, however, that what she was doing was not exactly helping to relieve another sort of tension that seemed to build whenever she touched him.

"Isobel-..." he murmured.

"Hmm?" she asked, her voice, close to his ear, full of concentration, "Is that not better?"

"Mmm?" he was so distracted by her hands that he could barely make out what she was saying.

"I said, is that not working?" she asked him, "Do you still feel wound up?"

"Yes, a little," he told her, trying to force his voice to be level, "Isobel-..."

He shuddered as her lips pressed the back of his neck, at the top and then at the base by his collar, her arms wrapping around him, her hands resting snugly on his chest as she held him tightly.

"Just relax, darling," she murmured, her voice low and husky against his neck, "Just relax." 

And then he snapped.

"Isobel," he asked pointedly, "How on earth am I supposed to be able to relax when you're doing _that_?"

"What?"

She straightened up a little and it gave him enough leverage to, grabbing hold of her hand, pull her round and into his lap. She squealed a little out of pure shock.

"Richard!" she gasped as his arms wrapped tightly around her, pressing her close to him.

"When you're kissing my neck?" he asked, pressing his lips to hers as he did so, "When you're whispering in my ear? When you've got you're hands all over me?" With his words his hands gently encircled her body, touching her breast gently through her dress.

"Richard-..." she breathed, looking flustered, her hair a little untidy from the way he hand suddenly buried one of his hands in it, "I wasn't thinking like that-..."

She smiled playfully, looking him in the eye.

"But now you are?" he asked hopefully.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, leaning her face closer to his.

"But now I am," she confirmed.

Their lips met, hers parting immediately to allow him access. His hand returned to her hair, tangling in it so that it came undone, falling down her back. His other hand rested on her hip, hers cupped his face, keeping him close to her as they kissed fiercely.

"Mm-... Richard, darling, just let me stand up for a second," she murmured.

He released her, and was quietly delighted when, a second later she sat back down on his lap with her legs straddled across his thighs. He buried his face in her neck, pulling her closer to him, pressing her body flush up against his.

"Isobel," he murmured a second later, pulling away in a little confusion, "Don't take this the wrong way but-... You feel different."

The momentary frown that occupied her face changed into a smile and then, a second later when he remained confused, she laughed.

"Yes," she replied, "Well, there's a reason for that."

This did nothing to assuage his confusion, nor did the fact that she laughed again gently when his frown did not fade.

"Take my blouse off, Richard," she told him.

"What?" he asked, a little surprised.

She smiled, lifting one of his hands from her hip to the buttons between her breasts.

"Go on," she encouraged him.

He did as she bid him. And was hard pressed not to gasp as he realised what she had meant.

Where her corset would have usually been was-...Nothing, he thought, at first. But, upon closer inspection, he saw that he breasts were held by a short of short corset, made of the finest lace, in an almost obscenely open weave.

"It's called a brassiere," she informed him, a rather smug smile on her face at his reaction, "Apparently they're all the rage."

"Are they?" he asked, forcing his voice to work.

"Well, I was rather depending on your opinion before I decided myself," she replied.

He did not speak. He just leant forwards, holding her body firmly in his hands, kissing her nipples through the lace. She gasped, her head fell back. He nuzzled his way along the edge of the lace, down to the valley between her breasts, tasting the exquisite creamy flesh there.

"I love it," he told softly.

Her head sank back down for a moment.

"That's good," she told him gently.

"I adore it."

"Good."

"I adore you. I love you," his hand traced under her skirt, up her thigh.

Their eyes met.

"Richard," she whispered.

He was touching her inner thigh.

"I'm so glad I came here," he told her.

His hand slipped inside her knickers, parting her folds with his fingers.

"Richard-..." she groaned.

"It's alright," he told her, "Isobel, darling, just relax."

She bit her lip, biting back a moan of pleasure as he sank his finger inside her. Her head rested against his shoulder, her hips rolled against his hand as he caressed her intimately until she could take no more.

"God, Richard-... Now," she told him, "I want you now."

"Are you sure?" he asked her.

"Oh God, yes," she moaned, reaching for his belt and fumbling with it terribly.

"It's alright," he told her, reaching his other hand to help her, "It's alright, Isobel."

His arousal free, she raised herself onto him immediately, taking him inside her in one movement. She rose and fell against him, her legs wrapped right around his, his face buried in the thin lace on her breasts. Her hands wove into his hair, holding on tightly, hurting him, almost as she tugged a little. Their lovemaking quickly reached a frantic pitch, and both of them knew they could not hold out much longer.

"Oh God," she murmured, her eyes meeting his.

"I love you, Isobel," he told her, before lowering his head again, kissing her nipples.

That was all it took, she stiffened in his arms and fell, shaking, against his body as he spilled himself inside her.

It took them both a long time for their breathing to return to normal. His hand smoothed up and down her back, under her blouse, gently fingering what seemed to be the catch of her new undergarment. At last, she sat up, smiling wryly at him. Their lips met and they exchanged a long kiss.

"Would you like to go upstairs?" she asked, "And you can take this off me, and you can relax some more?"

"Yes, please,"" he replied, kissing her again.

**Please review if you have the time. **


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